Caution: Rocky or Uneven PathOn one side, a stream burbles impatient, yammering over every stone. On the other, young trees hold the hillside, straining toward the pond, roots gripping hard. Little hostas help, their tendril roots finessing soil as leaf edges brown. No need for worry. The path brings you round, and home.

Shishi-OdoshiWind bends the thin fill stream. Will it reach the bamboo’s open throat? Patience: this takes time. Hurried visitors walk on; they can’t wait. Three beech leaves drift on the still surface below. Fill, fill, fill, slowly until the sudden drop—stiff old man making a hasty bow. Surface upset, then that jarring hollow clunk. Return to silence.

On the BridgeBehind, eager water rushes roaring over stair-stepped rocks. Ahead, the flow spreads and quiets, quick and shallow. Upright stones keep vigil, water moving through spaces between. Minor dignitaries, they keep their topsides dry.

Late AfternoonTrembling disk of sun on silk-green lake. Cluster of diamond-light glitters on the far shore. Wind sweeps by, light scatters, multiplies. Diamonds everywhere, in every fold of silk.

Spirea LeavesThey dove, held their breath, held and held. Water spread thick and fast over them. No more than a breath, they determine, defy. How do they hold on? Wet against water, strength counters strength.

StonehengeGranite, emerging eggs. Perhaps in a thousand years, a hatching. Each with its fretting companion, a quivering shrub. Bearing leaves, then berries, then baring as seasons change. In winter, spare sentinels beside the polished eggs, pondering their parabolic edges of light.

Heron RockYesterday, she watched here, stiletto beak and feather cap. Today, she has found her sky.

Cherry Tree PromenadeLeaves still bright on pliant boughs, the lately saplings congregate, murmuring their prowess. They forget they have never bloomed here, they forget their criss-cross props. Not mindful yet of winter winds that come, must come, before delicate profusions of spring.

I have published books on motherhood, Christian spirituality, and language in worship. I write regularly about all sorts of topics for The Twelve, and I teach literature and writing at Calvin College, where I have served on the faculty since 1996.